


The Hydra

by FionasEmbrace



Category: Dead Space
Genre: M/M, Tentacles, Unitologists, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FionasEmbrace/pseuds/FionasEmbrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the frozen planet, Clarke and Carver find themselves in an uneasy alliance. Out of the Necromorph demons and the fanatical Unitologists, which is the more dangerous? Carver/tentacles mostly. Unrelated to Demon Waltz. DS3 is not out yet at the time of writing this, but it won't be long..</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hydra

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [難以根除之禍害](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161396) by [BER2026444](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BER2026444/pseuds/BER2026444), [FionasEmbrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FionasEmbrace/pseuds/FionasEmbrace)



The planet was desolate, cold and dangerous, and one could wander it forever. Tau was host to demons big and small, a frozen wasteland with Necromorphs innumerable, seeking out the consumption of mortal flesh in order to replicate themselves. The hours melted into days, days that were longer than those on Earth, and Isaac had lost track of how long he had been shipwrecked here. It was a prison with no walls. Like his days at the Ishimura, Isaac was in danger. The planet was full of hostile lifeforms, new demon strands bred from Necromorphs. They were hiding in every underground corner, every piece of wreckage, anywhere they could harbor enough warmth for sustinence. Unlike his days at the Ishimura, Isaac was not alone. The company came in the form of the fanatical members of the Church of Unitology. Upon discovery of the Necromorph infection on Tau, they established a cathedral there and flocked to attain greater exposure to their beloved Marker, icon of spiritual perfection.

There was one other thing, however. Stranded along with Isaac was Sgt. John Carver, a military man affiliated with the Earth Defence Force. His story was similar to Isaac's; after a shipwreck, he was trapped on the planet and could not leave. And he actively needed to avoid capture by the Unitologists, as well. His disposition was cold and he was uninvested in helping Isaac very much. Evidently some past event, some recent tragedy, had really been affecting him - every now and then he would fall into a trance - but never would he volunteer what it was. Isaac supposed it was none of his business anyway. For the time being, although Isaac did not anticipate getting along with him very well, he was grateful for any non-hostile acquaintance. They travelled together for the time being, as it suited him. 

Now, their luck had taken a turn for the worse. Scavenging a downed spacecraft, they hoped to find enough parts needed to fix their own. The task seemed almost impossible, but it was their only chance for leaving the damnation of this planet. A gigantic passenger craft with a similar type of propulsion as theirs had wrecked into the side of a mountain range. Upside-down and split messily in half, it was lodged firmly in the ground. Littered cabling remained connecting the two halves, although the outer structure was separated entirely. The layout of the craft formed a type of uneasy shelter. The side of the mountain protected this place from much of the frozen winds that would otherwise sweep much of the internal components away. They excavated the largest engine component they needed.

While Carver removed the debris in the way, Isaac uncabled the component. They often worked together like this. It was typical for the two of them to leave the more technical tasks to Isaac, owing to his background as spacecraft engineer on the Ishimura. Carver, having a military background only, knew relatively little about technical tasks aside from operating weapons. The plastic and metal of the downed spacecraft creaked, then snapped. The noise was deafening. In an avalanche of metal and ice, the upper half of the spacecraft came clamoring down on them. They took off for the side, but were trapped underneath. They were now both, somewhere. It was pitch black.

"Clarke, you there?"

"Yeah." So they both survived the fall.

"Can you move?"

"Not really." Issac was wedged between two support beams, fortunate enough to not be crushed by them.

"Hm. Give me a sec, I think I can get myself out." Carver, luckily, was equipped with light and a laser cutter. He fixed the light to one side, and cut a hole in the side of the plane in the compartment he was in. Seeing daylight, he was able to exit the plane. "Here it is. I can get out this way..."

"Perfect. Okay. Now all you have to do is cut this back part loose, and..", indicating he would free Isaac next.

But there was a noise. A grotesque, inhuman sound. There were Necromorphs at the bottom of the plane. Carver went toward the doorway and nursed his injuries, looking around fearfully. "Yeah, uh.. There is some fucked up shit around here. I'm not for risking my life any more in here.." It would take too long for him to search out and find Isaac. He would be endangering himself. "Maybe I'll see you on the outside when this is all over."

"The fucking fuck?! No, you're not. You're not just taking off and leaving me here to get mauled by..." At the same time, Carver replied,

"It's a tough world out there, Clarke. Every man for himself. I believe in you." He hastily made away.

"... fifty Necromorphs." Isaac hastily looked around. "I... I don't even..." Before Isaac had the chance to say anything else or call him something unpleasant, Carver was already gone.

Carver left away from the crashed vessel, away from the rubble. He could try and find his own way out of here. While the soldier was definitely not a coward, this was no place to be foolish, either. Isaac was always more of a liability to him than an asset. He tended to venture willingly into danger, was ill-equipped, and was not as good a shot as he. It was unfortunate but true. He could lose Isaac, and save himself here, or have them both die together. Being separated was the only choice now.

So he left the structure, rifle in hand. Lurking around a corner, however, he met unexpected company.

* * *

The unitologists had a leader, well-dressed in vaguely religious attire. Rather than a flight suit he had on some trousers, and a trim-looking shirt with a pin on his breast with an ornate emblem of the Marker. It contrasted with the roughness of Carver's space suit, which a more heavy-duty variation of the EDF gear. The leader had one assistant, a woman in a similar but much plainer uniform. She looked very tired, no doubt from the constant influx of orders from Church leadership.

The leader looked Carver over, studied his red visor, stepped up to him and looked at him closely. There was a bit of blood from a wound on his hand. The man took a small device out of his pocket, a medical tool. He brought the pen-like instrument to the blood, which sampled it and displayed some output. "This isn't the one."

"What?" The underling asked, perplexed.

"This man here isn't Clarke. He's a decent specimen, sure, but he hasn't had the same level of Marker exposure we were hoping for."

"Then, I'm concerned with how difficult it will be to get the other specimen. Much of our forces that went to the lower portions of Tau have been lost.. I mean, made whole. They were abruptly made whole. It could make things difficult if we dedicate more of us to going down there."

"No, it's all right. While this one's exposure readings aren't so high, he's certainly a lot more physically fit than the other one. Just look at him." It was true, owing to Carver's background as a soldier. "His blood pressure and body composition are much closer to the ideal." Carver felt like they were talking about some other subject, as if we weren't even there. "He can probably take a lot more. We can maybe put him through something experimental, and use it for calibrating the rest of the tests." Carver glowered, and evaluated the danger in which he found himself. If he had his guns at the ready, these fools would be history in no time at all. Even if they were armed. But as it stood, his hands were bound and they would shoot instantly if he made any sudden moves.

They brought Carver, still in chains, to a room. The space was clean, mid-sized and host to some odd religious decorations and a large assortment of ornamental candles. Big and small, they lined the room in a discernible pattern, with a larger cluster of them at one side together. And beside them, there was a small, portable likeness of a Marker. There was a print on the wall that read, "One Mind- One Soul". The room was full of Unitologist icons like these. The marker statue was a beloved icon of the group; a symbol of their object of worship, symbolizing purification of the soul. The intertwining teeth pointing upward signified the 'Convergence' event, which they considered to be the ultimate attainment of truth, the holiest of human experiences. Carver knew what the Marker devices were capable of and the insanity of preserving them, much less worshiping them. They didn't have it through their heads it was dangerous. Dangerous wasn't even the right word.

Carver could take the opportunity now to tell the Unitologists how he really felt about them, but now it was not the time. He was outnumbered, some five-to-one, and they guarded him with weapons at the ready. Along the left wall there was something that looked like a bed, although it was low in height and not very soft at all. Something about it looked very ceremonial. There were some iron chains and bolts near the headboard. The underlings thrust Carver down onto the bed. They chained his neck to the headboard, and chained his hands to his neck. There was a little bit of slack, but not enough for any real means of escape. He considered his options from here. With no weapons and his hands tethered up near his head, and only a foot or so of slack, all he could really accomplish was a few stray punches in the air. If he didn't know better he would have thought they liked watching his helpless state. Sick fucks.

"Is this your guys's idea of a sick joke? Fine, keep me here, seems like you cocksuckers want the EDF to blow this place into the ground. Fucking lunatics." Carver was livid, and would cut all of them down given any opportunity.

"This is about your soul, and salvation of the souls of all humans. It would be very helpful if you co-operated. My name is Michael, so we can stop with the name-calling, if you please..."

"Let me guess, Michael Altman?" he said, indicating more exasperation than outward fear. "You loonies, changing your names." It was fairly common among the sect for members to change their name to match their leader. It was a sign of their pledge of loyalty.

"Why, yes, I did change my name- it used to be Lowell." He behaved as if Carver should be flattered to be volunteered this information. "Who wouldn't want to bring themselves a bit closer to our beloved Prophet? After all, my past name is now meaningless, since I was reborn when I discovered the secrets of the Marker... That was a shadow of my true self, while now I am pure. Now I am unified with the other side, and understand the frivolities of things like names, like so many of the other trappings we're encumbered with here on Earth."

"Hey. Go fuck yourself, Mike."

"Incidentally, my trusty assistant here is also named Michael Altman." He indicated the woman next to him, who had began the typical Unitologist gesture of prayer, where one crosses their arms like a letter X and entwines them. This gesture is meant to resemble the shape of the Marker artifact- two tines, spiraling upward. Occasionally she would mumble something under her breath. The assistant remained there, eyes closed, deep in meditation, paying no mind to the banter between the other two.

"Couldn't have at least picked Michelle, or something?"

The well-dressed man sighed, then looked at his electronic organizer. His assistant finished the prayer and he muttered something to her. The assistant left the room and came lumbering back in with something heavy. She brought in a sizable metal crate with heavy-duty buckles at the sides. The crate had some faded, illegible words printed on the side and some barcodes. It looked like a box for ammunition they had repurposed for storing whatever experiment this was. She dropped it unceremoniously beside Carver, where he was chained, and it made a large noise due to the weight. Then she pulled out a tiny syringe, unlabelled, containing an ominous blue fluid. She pressed a button on Carver's RIG to loosen the arm plates. Taking Carver's arm, she administered the injection. Her hands were cold on his tricep. After it was done the plates went back to their original position automatically. For whatever reason they did not care to undress him for all this. "So, what's this about?", he asked.

"To mark you." The assistant murmured, mysteriously.

The assistant then used a wrench and removed the bolts at the corners of the box, then pulled out four metal dowels at the corners. After that, the crate came undone and its pieces lay flat, leaving only the plastic lining of the box.

Inside the box, it was what Carver suspected- a Necromorph. This one was a bit different from the ones Carver had dealt with before during his assignments with the EDF. It was not humanoid at all, but a sprawling mess of limbs and freeform appendages; truly a disgusting creature. It had no discernible midsection, but its body was shaped almost like several jellyfish concatenated together, each moving autonomously. Its long, snakelike limbs, restless from so much imprisonment, poured joyously out of the box. The squirming, phallic-shaped limbs were soft and fleshy, not covered by any of its exoskeleton. Some of the tendrils were plain and smooth, while others had tiny legs along them like a millipede. Others yet had a bulb-shaped head with a slit, like an unbloomed flower. For some reason the creature secreted blood toward the far end of it, last to come out of the box, so there was a small mess on the floor. The only interest the creature had in the world was climbing onto Carver. Yes, that was the agent they injected in his bloodstream- something specifically designed to attract this Necromorph's interest. This was crucial for the Unitologist experimenters since the Necromorph had no eyes, and relied only on chemical senses of attraction.

Necromorphs of this size did not really scare Carver, although now all means of fighting had been taken away from him. The creature was not so fast-moving or agile as the other Necromorph species he had encountered. It took a moment for the limbs to close the short distance across the floor and scale the bedposts. In any case, the demon flowed out of the crate like a jack-in-the-box-in slow motion climbing up the bedpost and onto Carver's body. Lowell and the assistant simply backed away, but remained there to watch. The assistant took out a small clipboard and a pen for taking notes. She had already down written a couple timestamps, and next to each there were some cryptic much-abbreviated descriptions of events. So far there was the injection, and the dispensement of their experimental creature.

As the Necromorph began crawling on and wrapping around him, Carver managed, "Tell me what's the point of this.. Fuck, you crazies at least owe me that."

Lowell went right up to carver, grabbed him roughly by the chin, and brought his face close to the other man's. "We have a... supply problem for our forces, and we don't have enough personnel to accomplish our goals. But we do know of the ultimate, perfect living being - a Necromorph. They are the epitome of true unity, closeness to the Marker and to biological purity." Carver thought this was debatable. "But how can one produce Necromorphs that will ally themselves to us?" He did not respond, as he was too busy trying to kick one of the limbs creeping up his leg. The Unitologist leader said lowly, almost in a whisper to his ear, the same thing that Carver had been suspecting: "Breed them."

He maintained his grip on Carver's chin. "With the right composition of Necromorph biological attributes and human DNA, we can produce the perfect, most spiritually pure being that can ever exist. But for that to happen, we need a fertile human subject to use for mating. The human subject will inseminate this Necromorph specimen, and also be successfully inseminated by it. After the DNA is mixed, an alien spawn will then somehow be implanted into the Necromorph. As for the exact details about the reproduction, we are not sure yet. This experiment has not yet actually been accomplished successfully. That is what makes your role in this so unique, and important."

"You don't know. You don't know?" He responded, incredulous, and shook off Lowell's hand. "For all you know, this thing could rip off parts of me and eat them during this whole process. Or who knows whatever else. The end."

"Well, I suppose anything is possible. But rest assured, we will be documenting everything here, and your sacrifices are helping the Church of Unitology. We are all incredibly grateful." Carver muttered some curses under his breath and tried to consider his options, and Lowell backed away and continued watching him. Now the alien lifeform had wrapped itself around Carver's arms and legs, still feeling him up. After it could get enough leverage, it hoisted him up and suspended him midair, so he was just about chest-level with the two Unitologists. This looked like the natural positioning it had for its reproduction with a human. It ran a tentacle along Carver's chest, down to his pelvis, to his stomach, then to his left armpit for some reason. The soldier was still wearing his full RIG, and the creature seemed to be impeded by the plates and confused by them. It prodded at them, and tried to slip under them but to no avail. It simply just continued to pass its limbs over the soldier, aimlessly, applying little force.

The Unitologist leader watch the creature bumble around and grew impatient. "We were hoping to document a show of strength, here. I suppose this specimen isn't all we hoped it would be." The assistant just shrugged. This specimen was clearly not the best Necromorph subject they could find, it seemed to be dumber than a plant. He had apparently tried too hard to engineer a Necromorph subject that would copulate with a human without tearing them to shreds, and now the species they had concocted had none of the fierceness they were expecting. Impatiently, Lowell went up to carver and pushed a button on his RIG to open the plates around his torso, pelvis, and the upper part of his thighs. He did not bother with the rest of the suit. He found Carver wearing a simple pair of pants and a buttonless shirt with the text, "Earth Defense Force" with their logo and the text, "the stars are ours!". With a simple, small shiv he cut all the way down the front of the shirt, exposing the man's chest and stomach, and then undid the pants and pulled them down. With Carver still suspended in midair and his limbs held in place, it was easy enough to do.

It was very apparent now how well-muscled the soldier was, and why they chose him so quickly. His abdominal muscles were very hard and well-defined, typical for someone in the military sector. His chest and stomach muscles flexed very prominently as he struggled against the tendrils still holding up his limbs, the tough flesh contrasting to the plated black gear still covering his arms and legs. His soft member was now exposed to the cool air, and with his legs affixed up and slightly apart, was in plain view. Now that the experiment was a go, the Unitologist leader dismissed all of the underlings except the one assistant who was praying before, so it was just the three of them in the room. Most likely, he did not want them posing as a distraction.

Wasting no time, Lowell simply took one of the tentacles in his hands and effortlessly placed it on Carver's member. Being so firmly held in place, it was impossible for Carver to avoid him or to move himself out of the way. The tentacles were pliant and co-operated easily; Lowell was more than willing to give the monster what it so desperately wanted, but could not find the way. He brought another one to the man's ballsac, and then guided a third one to his ass, but did not try to use it to penetrate him; he simply left it there. Finally, he took one of the bulbed tentacles with a mouth and brought it to one of the man's nipples. With all of them in place, he stood back. "This should do it." Sure enough, the Necromorph registered its surroundings and its task to procreate with Carver. It first stroked the man's balls and emitted a wet secretion on them, and on base of his penis. Then the other tentacle stroked the wet substance up and down his dick, collecting at the head, then pushing back down again, over and over. In no time at all, and as much as he willed against it, he had a full-on erection from its touch. Lowell's assistant hastily noted this down. With his legs held slightly apart like this, his member was very easy to access for the Necromorph and easily visible to the two of them.

It was clear that this Necromorph had a natural instinct to penetrate and copulate with humans, but was blind and lacked reason, and could not ascertain how to undo clothes or locate the correct anatomical parts on them. How fortunate for it that the unitologist leader was available to help. Now that he connected the tendrils to Carver so easily as if he were attaching cables to a machine, he could leave it to do its work. The Necromorph immediately brought a thin, wet tendril to slide into his rear entrance. The shape was tapered enough so it was not very painful and entered him easily. It secreted even more fluid, leaking inside of him and dripping down. Then, rather than remaining still inside of him, it darted in and out. His legs were fixed slightly apart so he could not close them or deny the monster access to him. The other appendage was still giving its attention to his ballsac and cock. It preferred to tease at him, still stroking too slowly to get all the way off. His penis was fully swollen, to the point of aching, and dripped with pre-come. He bit back a gasp and threw his head back, maybe from the sensations or from the indignity of it all.

Even in his more adventurous days, he had never indulged in voyeurism or sexual acts in public. Whenever he was with his late wife, it was fairly vanilla between them. To be put on display like this in front of the two Unitologists was something humiliating. And to think he was actually getting off in front of them. As the molestation continued, the small, mouthed tentacle near his chest latched onto his nipple. There was a very small tongue inside its head that flicked out quickly and sharply, over and over, while the whole thing moved in a small circular motion. When it moved to the other nipple another tentacle replaced it that had no mouth, but simply flicked his nipple back and forth in very small motions, and ejaculated a warm fluid on his chest. His muscled body shone with sweat from the struggle and from the slimy fluid. The monster still kept a firm grip on his shoulders, arms and legs. It was made easier by the fast that his RIG was still in place on his arms and legs, missing only in the middle, and the plated metal afforded much better grip than bare skin. The tentacles locked onto it, even literally- it now hooked through his gear.

The assistant came up to Carver, with a small plastic slide used for chemical sampling, and used a finger to put some of the Necromorph's fluid onto the slide. His body was being shaken back and forth by the alien so she placed a gloved hand on his stomach to steady him. The gentleness of the gloved hands were annoying compared to the assault on the rest of his body. He glared at her but said nothing, having reserved most of his curses for Lowell already. Then after putting that slide aside, the assistant took a new slide with attention to Carver's dripping erection, still being stroked by the tentacle. By this point it was just running up and down the shaft, leaving the head alone. This made it easy for the assistant, using a gloved finger, to take some of the fluid and move it onto the plate, careful not to hit his penis against the plastic despite the constant motion. With the pre-come on gloved fingers, she moved her fingers apart, to get a sense of the consistency and mucous content, then returned to the desk at the side of the room, pouring over notes.

Then the Necromorph withdrew the thin tentacle from Carver, and replaced it with a blunter one. With its ministrations so far, and all of the secreted fluid still inside of him, it slid right in without much difficulty, although the fit was still tight. Then, rather than darting inside of him shallowly like the other one, this one moved fully in and out, over and over, more like how it would be as if someone were fucking him. After a while the dull ache had turned into a strange kind of pleasure that he would never admit. The tentacle stroking his dick now moved all the way up the shaft and over the head, emitting more fluid along the way. It slid up and down and teased him to no end. For the two observers, this was nothing short of pornographic. Especially from where Lowell was standing, he could easily see the tentacles moving over him, and the one penetrating him, his body still struggling against the bonds. It would only be a matter of time before the creature released its seed into him. From his thoroughly violated form, his leaking penis jutted out conspicuously. Although wordless now, Carver could not hold back his short breathing and perverse gaze.

The monster began to tremble. Carver felt the tendril lodged inside of him start to twitch, and expand and contract slightly, firming up with each contraction. Then it emitted sticky fluid into him- its seed. It was actually trying to breed with him now. With each twitch, a bit more would spill out, and he could feel all of it filling him up. It thrust a little bit more to implant the warm fluid as deep into him as possible. As that tentacle withdrew, the excess fluid dripped onto the ground. This was all happening underneath his suspended legs, slightly out of his sight, but he could feel all of it. Another tentacle began moving in to replace the last one penetrating him. The last tentacle, while withdrawing, dripped some of its excess semen also on and around Carver's dick. Given he was still being jerked off, he now had the appearance of someone who had just came and was ready to go again, since the semen looked like it was his.

Gazing at the sight, Lowell had the appearance of someone disconcerted. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his sweaty brow, and adjusted his collar nervously. Usually, he was tied pretty well-together, and did not look this out of sorts. The assistant looked at him inquisitively, and noticed something forming in his trousers. Apparently this was exciting him as much as the Necromorph. There was a conspicuous budge in his pants that he did not bother hiding. He adjusted his belt and touched himself tentatively, brushing a hand down his clothed penis, deciding what to do. Then, as if saying 'to hell with it', he stepped up to Carver where he was and unbuckled his belt.

"What are you doing?", the assistant asked.

He replied, frankly, "what does it look like?" He undid his pants and pulled them down enough to be comfortable, exposing his plain briefs. Pulling those down as well, he finally exposed his aching erection, sore from being constrained against the front of his pants for so long. Without much effort he removed the tentacle vying to enter Carver and put his own member there instead. The Necromorph maintained its grip on the soldier, so Lowell did not really need to use any effort in moving the man's legs or changing his position. He was already at the correct height, even, to fuck him easily. In any case, he steadied a grip on Carver's thigh and positioned himself. Carver was unaware of things until he felt the hand on his thigh; his eyes had been half-shut, immersed in humiliation and pleasure, not much in tune with the world. He looked up and saw the Unitologist and what he was about to do. Carver was disgusted but nothing really surprised him at this point. He shot him a look and mumbled some incoherent curse words.

The assistant offered, "Yes, I can see that... Maybe it can wait until the experiment is over. You know as well as I do, Lowell, the introduction of a new seminal agent can interfere with the results."

"Never you mind", he said dismissively, and no argument came. Then he pushed into Carver with ease. As much as he would hate to admit it, his equipment was a bit smaller than the tentacle that was violating Carver before, so there was no effort needed to put it in. Still, it felt wonderful and tightened right up against him. And the view here was even better than from where he was standing before. He could watch Carver's dick being stroked, still fully engorged and dripping, and those perfect stomach muscles, flexing as he struggled, laced with semen. The mouthed tentacles still toyed with his nipples relentlessly. Lowell especially loved watching the man's dick as he was continually getting jacked off, Carver did have a nice one, and here he didn't even have to do anything.

Being inside of the soldier like this, he wasn't able to last long. Gripping a thigh in each hand, the thrust more vigorously a few more times, before he started to tremble. In the heat of the moment he licked all along Carver's torso and kissed his chest wetly. It would have been an intimate gesture in other circumstances. Then, he held back some words, and just let out a gasp, since Unitologist leaders are heavily indoctrinated not to use curse words. He thrust himself in all the way, until his balls touched the other man's skin, and released his warm seed into Carver, joining the alien seed that was already there, still making small thrusting motions until he was spent. Then he withdrew from Carver, dripping the excess semen onto the floor.

Despite having already came, he maintained his grip on the man's thighs and with the hard dick jutting out in front of his face, still being stroked by tentacles, he could not resist moving in and taking some of it in his mouth. First he licked the head and teased at the slit, and then moved his tongue back and forth over it. Then he took the upper portion of the head into his mouth and stroked it with his tongue while sucking on it. He sucked on the head only, and did not touch anywhere else on Carver's dick, since the tentacles were doing it already. From Lowell's spit combined with the semen emitted from the tentacles, everything slid over the bound man's dick wetly.

Finally, the treatment was proving too much for Carver. A new tentacle had lodged inside of him. The ones teasing at his dick were now stroking him with full force and much faster, and then there was Lowell's tongue sliding all over the head. It felt like was actually inside someone. Another tendril maintained its grip on his balls and now pushed against the space just below them. He threw his head back, eyes half shut and almost gritting his teeth, shaking, and he swore. Lowell felt the man's dick twitch against his tongue and saw his body tense up. Finally, Carver ejaculated right as Lowell had withdrawn for a second, so that cum splashed on his face. When Lowell saw what was happening he took the head back in his mouth to get as much inside as possible. The man's dick twitched a few more times, with more seed shooting out each time. When he had mostly finished, rather than swallow the man's semen right away, Lowell moved the semen around his mouth a bit and pushed it around with his tongue. Perversely he licked more of the excess off his fingers, making it evident that there was still a lot in his mouth. Finally it between licks he slowly swallowed it down. The alien continued to stroke him now, squeezing out every last bit. Then it sucked at the head until there definitely was no more left. He remained hard, however, and the alien went right back to stroking his dick, gently and lazily. How many rounds would this go on?

"Phew..." The unitologist sighed contentedly, wiped his hands and face with a handkerchief and pulled his pants back up and restored his clothes to an semblance of professionalism, save for the semen that dripped onto his pant leg. Carver glowered at him wordlessly. Lowell backed off. The assistant still said nothing, but looked disappointed in the well-respected Unitologist leader's conduct.

"You are fucked up, you know that?" Carver said plainly.

The assistant noted down Carver's orgasm on the clipboard, with some other comments about Lowell's conduct, a note to his superior- someone's getting a citation. At least. Lowell just leaned back against the wall, taking a breather.

Finally, there was a harsh slam of a door emitted from one of the corridors nearby. Lowell and his assistant looked at one another, neither having a suspicion of what it could be. They had no time to react. A few slams at the door to their room of ceremony, and it was kicked down. Thankfully the candles were well in-place, or they would have been knocked over. The intruder wore an engineer's RIG and a green-lit visor.

"No, it can't be... " Lowell put two and two together. He recognized that suit, that headpiece. There was only one person alive on the engineering team from that sector.

"Carver?!" Isaac shouted, muffled by his RIG headpiece, but he quickly made sense of what was going on in the room; the Unitologists were using Carver for their Necromorph experiments, and they planted one on him. "Fucking nutjobs." Quickly, Lowell pulled out a small pistol that he kept attached to his belt in case of emergencies. The assistant simply raised her hands up in surrender. Lowell cocked and aimed the gun, and fired a couple shots at Isaac. He was a poor shot, however, and both pieces missed and lodged themselves into the door nearby. The Necromorph, oddly enough, was scared a bit by the loud pealing of gunfire and recoiled some. Some shells littered the ground, and Isaac readied his rifle, aiming it toward the Unitologist leader. Lowell looked at his assistant, as if to say, 'why aren't you helping me?', but in a moment's time, Isaac simply fired into him. The shots went into his chest, arm and shoulder. He choked, gasping unintelligible words, and his hands fell limp at his sides. There wasn't time even to entwine his hands in Marker prayer. He dropped to his knees unceremoniously, and then doubled over, dead, planting his face directly into the floor.

Isaac quickly made for Carver and the Necromorph using him. He had not looked closely at the spectacle until now. It was true, the Necromorph had the plates on his midsection missing, legs spread, and was penetrating and jacking him off at the same time. He had never watched a couple having sex in front of him, or had seen Carver unclothed, or seen anything like this before. Something about seeing all of this was disgusting but extremely enticing. He paused. A whirlwind of dirty thoughts entered his mind. No. He immediately pushed them to the side, hating himself for a moment, incredulous at his own thoughts. This was really uncharacteristic of him. This was the likely result of being cooped up on the Ishimura for too long. With a cutting tool he made quick work of the pathetic Necromorph, and the thick chains binding Carver to the headboard. Amidst all this, the dead Unitologist's assistant fled the room.

"Are you all right?" Isaac asked, awkwardly.

"Yeah..." Having fixed his clothes and re-suited himself, Carver stood up tentatively. He had no injuries needing urgent care, but his innards were sore and his legs were weak. Isaac helped him up and escorted him out; leaning on him made it easier.

Isaac asked no questions about what transpired exactly. By what he saw, he knew everything he needed to know. The Unitologists were capable of anything and Carver was not the first one. The question no one was asking, however, was why Isaac bothered to save him. After what happened, he was not owed that. He was basically left for dead. But Carver already knew the answer. If anyone was going to be delivering the heroics, it would be Clarke. That's it. That's how these things always worked.

They left the complex. This place was a death trap, but not for any of the reasons they had thought. Isaac and Carver were used to fighting Necromorphs, simple alien beings with no awareness, no sentience. They reproduced easily, but were just as easily sliced through with bullets and blades. On the other hand, they had other, real enemies here- human enemies. The elimination of a few of the Unitologist underlings would not really solve their problem. There was a whole cult of fanaticism out on a witch-hunt for both of them, until both men were dead and all the Markers were under their control. The only way to stop them was to shut down these artifacts altogether. The Necromorph presence here meant Marker presence, so this was already the right place. 


End file.
